


restrained

by mardia



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Kink Negotiation, Kinks, M/M, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan's becoming fixated, and Casey has hidden depths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	restrained

The next morning, Dan doesn't think about it.

That is easier than one would think, because Casey is acting like nothing happened. Casey's his usual self, laughing and joking with everyone, bantering with Dana and chatting with Jeremy about some odd cold front appearing somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Casey is currently working away at their script while Dan sits in front of his computer, unable to type a damned thing.

But that's okay, that's just fine, because Dan is _not thinking about it._ Just one of those drunken conversations better left alone and forgotten, banished to a corner of his mind where it can rot away and leave him in peace.

"Hey, Danny, you okay? You seen a little distracted."

"Nah, I'm good."

He's not thinking about it.

 

*

Dan thinks about it exactly twice during the noon rundown. He sneaks odd little glances at Casey, trying to make this new knowledge--ill-gotten knowledge, sure, but he can't be responsible for a person will admit under the influence of German liquor—fit with the image of the Casey he's always known.

Maybe he tries to picture it. Just once. Only once, because he's in a room full of people he works with, people he likes and respects, and this is _seriously not_ the time or place to be thinking about—

"Danny, are you even listening?" Dana asks sharply.

"Yeah, I'm listening, Dana."

Dana doesn't look like she's buying it, but she lets it go for now. Casey gives Dan a perplexed look, which Dan ignores.

He really can't let himself think about this.

 

*

After the third time that day that Dan looks at Casey and immediately thinks of handcuffs, or rope, or how silk ties are really quite durable and how good they'd look against Casey's fair skin, tied tightly around the wrists, he finally admits that his not-thinking-about-it policy might need to have a few kinks worked out.

 

*

Of course, this all started with Jagermeister. It was _always_ the goddamned Jagermeister. Dan's seriously starting to think the stuff should just be outlawed.

It's not that Casey's a lightweight by any means, but when it comes to this particular drink, any kind of filter that's between Casey's brain and his mouth disappears and he just starts talking and will not stop.

And last night was no exception.

It started with Casey bemoaning his lack of a meaningful romantic relationship, and even though Dan had heard it before, he was willing to hear it again, because listening to Casey talk about his lack of a relationship was a lot easier than having to deal with Casey in an actual relationship. That way a lot of desperately repressed jealousy lay.

Dan doesn't even remember how they got to sex in particular, just that they did. Or rather, they were talking about the depressing _lack_ of sex in their lives, and Dan had been feeling relaxed and loose and carefree, right up until the point where Casey said, musingly, "You know what I really miss? Being tied up."

If Dan had been drinking something, he would have done a massive spit-take. As it was, he'd sat up straight in his chair and choked out a "What?" He'd shot a glance at the Jaegermeister and noted how much was gone; it was more than he'd thought.

"Being tied-up," Casey said, still speaking in that infuriating matter-of-fact tone, like he was talking about a baseball game they'd watched together. "You know, being handcuffed to the bed, things like that. Oh, I think Natalie's trying to get up and dance on the table."

And that, to Dan's immense frustration, was that.

 

*

It doesn't stop. Dan doesn't know how to _make_ it stop, or even if he wants it to. He's thought about Casey before, of course, but—not like this. Not where he's watching Casey in their office, watching Casey tap a pencil on his notebook and trying to imagine the sheen of a metal handcuff around that surprisingly slender wrist. Trying to imagine Casey, his arms being held above him, stiff, straining, panting for breath. Pleading.

God.

"You okay?" Casey asks, and Dan doesn't even know how long Casey's been watching.

"Yeah," he says. "Just a little blocked right now, that's all."

Casey nods. "All right. Let me know if you need any help."

He does, but it's not the kind Casey can provide.

 

*

And Dan knows everything would be just fine if he could just _stop_ thinking about it, but he can't. It's like an itch he can't stop scratching, because every fantasy in his head before now was anonymous, even when it was about him and Casey. They were as seperate from reality as it was possible to get, considering the circumstances, but this is _specific,_ this is real, a fantasy that also happens to be the truth, and it's messing up everything.

Casey likes to be tied up, and Dan loves thinking about it, in the shower, in his bed, and all of it, all the compartmentalizing and protective denial he's done for the last ten years is crashing down around him.

 

*

"Okay, seriously now—what's going on with you?"

"What?" Dan looks up. It's late, the show's done, and everyone's gone home. Everyone except for him and Casey, sitting here in their darkened office, Casey's eyes so serious and grave.

"You've been acting weird for ages," Casey says, "—and it's not the normal kind of weird, either."

"There's a normal kind of weird?" Dan asks flippantly, and he almost sounds like his usual self.

Casey gives him a quick grin, "Yeah, there is, at least in this place. But you're not acting like your usual brand of strange, Danny, this is—different. You've been quiet, and distracted—"

Distracted, yeah. By handcuffs, by rope, by silk ties. By Casey.

"—and I don't want to push this, I really don't, Dan, but ever since that night at Anthony's with the Jaegermeister—" and Dan can see the moment where it hits, where the puzzle snaps together in Casey's mind. "Oh crap."

"Casey, it's nothing," Dan begins, more than a little desperate by now, because if Casey keeps pushing, who _knows_ where this is going to end up.

But Casey's working it out, and he looks at Dan, worried. "Did—did something happen then? Did I say something? Seriously, Danny, you know how I get with Jaegermeister, anything'll come out of my mouth—" And now Dan has to stop this, he really has to stop this.

"Look, it's okay, really." Casey just gives him a look at that, and Dan groans; the sucky part of working with someone this long is that they consider it their duty to call you on your bullshit. "Okay, fine--you might have said something that might have thrown me for a loop—but it's fine, really—it's none of my business anyway."

Casey's just staring at him now, forehead furrowed, and says at last, "Okay, how about we try that again, but this time, why don't you actually _explain_ what the hell happened?"

Dan honestly cannot think of anything he'd rather do less. Well, okay, he'd rather do this than, say, be handcuffed to Lisa for a day, and wow, he really can't be thinking about handcuffs right now. God.

He steels himself. "Do you remember what we were talking about?"

Casey looks impatient now. "Danny, of course I don't remember, that's why I'm asking you--"

"Well, you mentioned something," Dan goes on quickly. "About—um—sex."

Casey blinks at him. "About—" Then he turns brick-red, and if Dan wasn't firmly wishing he could just disappear right now, he'd be watching in fascination. He's always liked seeing Casey blush. "Oh. _Oh._"

"Yeah," Dan said, his face hot.

There was a long pause.

"Well, this is embarrassing," Casey said at last.

"You're telling me," Dan mutters. "Wanna just forget about it?"

"Oh, thank God, yes," Casey says quickly. And that, Dan thinks with not a little bit of relief, because it's finally out there and done with, is that.

 

*

It's really not.

"Wait, you said you couldn't stop thinking about it," Casey says five minutes later, when they're walking towards the elevator. "Why?"

Dan nearly stops dead in his tracks. "Hmm?"

"About—" and Casey's flushing again, "—about what I told you. You couldn't stop thinking about it. Why not?"

Oh, Jesus. "Well, it's not what I expected from you," Dan says, pretty reasonably he thinks. "And—I don't know, I guess I thought I'd already know something like that about you."

Casey's staring at him now. "You thought you'd know about what I like in—" He stops abruptly, and goes red. "Danny…I know people joke about how close we are, but we're not _that_ close."

"I know," Dan says, making very sure that the smile he gives looks relaxed and easy, making very sure that he doesn't wince at how unintentionally true Casey's statement is. "It just—wasn't what I expected."

Casey, to Dan's relief, rolls his eyes. "You know, I'm not quite as white-bread as you seem to think I am—"

"Oh, I'll never make the mistake of thinking of you as white bread again, Casey, I can promise that," Dan says, and just like that—the tension's gone.

 

*

Dan had thought, he really had thought that once it was out there, once he'd admitted the truth to Casey, that it would end. At least that it would end at _work._

It doesn't.

Now that Casey knows that he knows, Dan wants—and God help him—he wants to ask _questions._ Partially for his own selfish, perverse reasons, but also because Dan, crazy as it sounds, prides himself on being the guy who knows Casey McCall better than anyone does, and that includes Casey himself. He's that guy, he's the guy who knows how to deal with Casey when he's being irrationally stubborn on some small point, when he's depressed or angry or needs to be coaxed out of writer's block. He's the go-to guy when it comes to Casey McCall, and apparently all this time, there was this thing that Casey was keeping from him that Dan hadn't even suspected.

He shares this with Casey, who doesn't seem to agree with Dan's views.

"Oh, come on, Danny, it's not like this is something you discuss in polite company," Casey says.

"I'm just saying, man—I'm your best friend. Who else are you going to share it with?"

"How about no one?" Casey shoots back, and goes back to the script.

Dan doesn't leave it alone, of course. He can't. Leaving things alone has never been a talent of his. "Oh, come on—Casey, it's not like there aren't other people who aren't into—"

Casey gives him a look and says, sarcastic, "Danny, what do you want me to do, go out into the middle of the street and ask anyone if they like to tie people up during sex?"

Somehow, it's still a shock to hear Casey actually say it out loud. Dan blinks, and then barrels on. "No, but I'm sure if you wanted to, you could find somebody who…" He fumbles for the right word, and Casey starts smirking. "What?" Dan asks.

"Nothing, it's just—who'd have thought out of the two of us, you'd be the prude?"

Dan gapes. He knows it's not attractive, but he can't help it. Casey is calling _him_ a prude; Dan's nearly positive this is a sign of the apocalypse. "I am _not_ a prude."

"Oh, you really are," Casey says, grinning. "You can't even say it—"

"I can too!"

Casey just snorts and leans back in his chair, folding his arms and saying smugly, "Well, alright then. Let's hear it. Danny, what do I like to do in bed?"

Dan's brain goes offline for a moment, and he can feel his face turning red. Casey snorts. "I knew it. You're a prude."

 

*

"I'm sure if you really wanted to, you could find somebody," Dan persists.

Casey groans, stretching out his neck, rolling his head from side to side. "Danny, can we please just let this go?"

"Hear me out, Casey," Dan says. "You pick up a nice-looking girl in a bar—"

"Okay, hold it right there," Casey says, holding up a hand. "I'm not going to indulge in this with a complete stranger, Danny, are you crazy?"

"Why not?"

Casey splutters for a moment, then admits, flushing, "I—it has to be with someone I trust, okay? Otherwise it just doesn't work."

"Oh," Dan says. That—makes some sense, actually. "So, one-night stands—"

"Are definitely not an option," Casey finishes, then amends that to, "Well, not for this, anyway." He sighs. "You're not getting it."

"So help me," Dan says. "Help me get it."

Casey sighs once again, and says, fumbling for the words and not looking at him, "It's not even that much about the...restraint part, as it's about...having someone in your life that you can trust that much. Haven't had that in a while."

Dan blinks and feels like a heel. "Oh."

"Yeah," Casey says. "Now, please—can we just _drop this_ already?"

"Yeah," Dan says. "Consider it dropped."

 

*

And it is.

Except for the fact that it isn't.

 

*

 

"Would you let me?" Dan could blame the alcohol, the late hour, the comfort of the couch that's lured him into this half-asleep, incautious state. He won't. He's been thinking about this too long to blame it on outside forces. This is all him.

Casey blinks at him, sprawled out in the chair in a way that makes Dan want to...just makes him want. Desperately, achingly _want._ "What?"

And he could let it go, he _should_ let it go, except he hasn't really been able to let any of it go since he first heard about it, and maybe Dan can blame the alcohol for giving him the courage to say it out loud. "Would you let me tie you up?"

Casey's eyes grow wide. "Danny, are you—" He pauses for a moment and stares at Dan, as if to make sure this isn't a joke, then says, hesitant, "Are you—propositioning me?"

And yeah, the alcohol may not be responsible for what he wants to do, but it's sure as hell responsible for giving him the guts to say it out loud. "Are you going to _let_ me proposition you?"

Casey's eyes are just ridiculously huge, and before Dan can think about all the reasons why this is the stupidest thing he's ever done, he says quickly, "I—yes."

Dan blinks. That...just might be the most shocking thing in all of this yet, if he's hearing Casey right. "What?"

Casey looks just as stunned as Dan feels, but he says, "I said yes."

"No I heard that part, I'm asking what you're saying yes to."

"To the—" Casey gestures with his hands. "To the propositioning. Yes. I'm saying yes. Christ." He looks somewhat disbelieving, which is nothing compared to how Dan feels.

"Really?" Dan has to ask again, because holy crap, his temporary insanity brought on by liquor and his inability to think before speaking wasn't actually supposed to _work_, much less get him the very thing—the very person he's wanted more than anything or anyone else in the world.

But there Casey is, his eyes going soft, smiling and saying, "Yes, Danny—Jesus, like I'm ever going to say no to you."

Dan would point out that that is totally not true, Casey says no to him all the time—well, not for the actual important stuff—but he's far too busy knotting his hand in the front of Casey's shirt and pulling him in for an awkward, and yet fantastic, first kiss.

 

*

They don't actually get to the handcuffs and ropes that night. They don't even get to the bed that night—hell, they don't even really make it past first base. After so long, it's strange to realize that Dan is, for the moment, completely satisfied with long, slow kisses, with Casey clutching at his shoulders and making these amazing soft sounds in the back of his throat.

"I've been crazy about you for years," Dan gasps out at one point, looking down at Casey with wonder, with amazement. "I was just so afraid you—"

And Casey looks at him for a long moment, then breaks out into a huge, wonderful smile. "Shows how smart you are," he teases, and Dan has to kiss him again.

 

*

The first time they have sex, there are no ropes, no handcuffs, no bondage gear of any kind, and it's Casey's idea.

"Why not now?" Dan asked, not wanting to push, but still kind of curious.

"Because." Casey is blushing now, and he's unable to meet Dan's gaze the whole way. "The first time...I'm going to want to touch you."

Dan knows he's grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't care less. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Casey says, looking at him a little shyly. "Later, though."

"Really?" Dan asks, drawing out the word to put in as much innuendo as humanly possible.

Casey's shy smile turns into a cocky grin. "Yeah, well, wouldn't want those fantasies of yours to go to waste."

Their first time is absolutely beyond fantastic, with Casey making these noises that just--well, when Dan replays them the next day at work, he gets flushed and bright-eyed and can't get up from his desk for a few minutes. Natalie actually asks him if he's got a fever, which just makes him blush even harder.

Casey just grins smugly until Dan throws something at his face and tells him to get started on their script already.

 

*

Yes, they eventually get to the handcuffs, and it is absolutely nothing like his fantasies.

*

It's _better._ Casey's breathing hard, and his eyes look...shattered. Beautiful. Competely and utterly focused on Dan, on everything that Dan's doing to him.

"Danny," Casey whispers, his hips rolling up into Dan's hands. "Danny, _please_, just..."

Dan's never really been able to refuse anything that Casey ever asked him, but God, hearing Casey plead in that voice, that raw, hoarse voice that's dropped an octave...

He leans forward, so that his lips are barely, barely brushing Casey's, his breath puffing out against Casey's skin. "Are you sure?"

Casey groans, deep in his throat. "_Yes_, goddammit."

"Because I think we should just draw this out a little bit more," Dan suggests, not even knowing where this is coming from, because every part of him, every cell inside of him _wants_, is just _aching_ with it.

Casey's eyes flutter open, and he looks at Dan, eyes dark in his face. "_Danny._"

And just like that, Dan comes undone. "Okay, okay," he breathes out, kissing Casey desperately, a promise for more, for everything Dan has to give. And then, all too soon and not soon enough, he's pressing into Casey, pushing inside until they're flush against each other, Casey biting his lip and showing a remarkable amount of flexibility that Dan would comment on if his brain wasn't currently otherwise occupied.

"God, I love you so much," Dan groans out, and Casey smiles up at him, sweetly.

"I know," he says. "Now _move_ already."

In the morning there are faint marks on Casey's wrists, but neither of them can stop grinning, at each other or in general.

And once more, Dan can't get it out of his head--but this time, he doesn't mind at all.

 

_Why are we so full of restraint? Why do we not give in all directions? Is it fear of losing ourselves? Until we do lose ourselves there is no hope of finding ourselves."_\--Henry Miller.


End file.
